There is nobody to speak for Thomas except people who
have theories to work off on him; and nobody understands Thomas except Thomas,
and he does not always know what is the matter with himself.
That is the prologue. This is the story:
Corporal Slane was engaged to be married to Miss Jhansi M'Kenna, whose history
is well known in the regiment and elsewhere. He had his Colonel's permission,
and, being popular with the men, every arrangement had been made to give the
wedding what Private Ortheris called "eeklar." It fell in the heart of the hot
weather, and, after the wedding, Slane was going up to the Hills with the
Bride. None the less, Slane's grievance was that the affair would he only a
hired-carriage wedding, and he felt that the "eeklar" of that was meagre. Miss
M'Kenna did not care so much. The Sergeant's wife was helping her to make her
wedding-dress, and she was very busy. Slane was, just then, the only
moderately contented man in barracks. All the rest were more or less
miserable.
And they had so much to make them happy, too. All their work was over at eight
in the morning, and for the rest of the day they could lie on their backs and
smoke Canteen-plug and swear at the punkah-coolies. They enjoyed a fine, full
flesh meal in the middle of the day, and then threw themselves down on their
cots and sweated and slept till it was cool enough to go out with their
"towny," whose vocabulary contained less than six hundred words, and the
Adjective, and whose views on every conceivable question they had heard many
times before.
Pages:
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484